Windows

I have never broken a window,

toys-yes, hearts-plenty, but never a window.

 

Brokenness is never really pretty.

There is such a small time to fix it, such a small window.

 

I remember how I wanted you to stare

into my soul like it was a window.

 

But you preferred distance, separation

Always wanting something between us, panes in a window.

 

And when it rained, you refused to get wet,

Always hiding behind the glass of the window.

 

I am realizing that freedom is abstaining from barriers:

no wall, no fences, no doors, no windows.

 

Brokenness is not the worst thing.

Faith, imagine a world without windows.